


Framed

by jiminchus



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Attempted Murder, Lawyers, M/M, Mild Gore, The Hale Fire, derek is a lawyer, lawyer AU, stiles is a supposed serial killer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-12
Updated: 2017-01-12
Packaged: 2018-09-17 00:23:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9296069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jiminchus/pseuds/jiminchus
Summary: Stiles was in a complete state of shock. What the fuck was going on? They were arresting him for murder? He couldn’t even harm a fucking fly! Stiles heard of the murders happening around the town on the news, but it wasn’t him! He was being arrested for real. For a crime that he hasn’t committed, nonetheless.





	

As Stiles steps in the coffee shop, the strong bitter aroma of ground coffee beans drifting in the air immediately infiltrating his nostrils. It was the best smell in the world to him right now. He steps up to the counter, giving the girl behind the register a smile before placing his order, a Caffè Americano. He had been up late night cramming for his exams, and he really, really needed something to wake him up before class starts, so he asks the girl if she can add an extra shot of expresso to his drink and pays her. 

  


He waits patiently as they make his coffee, texting Scott, informing him that he stopped by to grab a coffee on his way and that he shouldn't wait for him. The sudden wailing of sirens grab his attention, his curiosity getting the best of him, his eyes looking away from the screen of his phone and out the bay window in the coffee shop. There were a couple of cop cars coming to a screeching halt on the other side of the street. 

  


"What's going on?" he hears someone ask.

  


Stiles wonders, too, but before he could go investigate, they're calling his name to get his coffee. He takes his coffee, thanks the barista, and heads for the door. Before he even got his other foot out the door and even process what was going on, someone is grabbing him. 

  


They threw him against the brick wall outside the coffee shop. It completely knocked the breath out of him, and he dropped his coffee all over his shoes, hot liquid seeping through the material and making him shout out in pain. One of them was yanking off the satchel around his shoulders before jerking his arms around his back, slamming cold cuffs around his wrists while the other was reading off his Miranda rights.

  


Wait, **_what?_**

  


"Stiles G. Stilinski, you're under arrest for multiple counts of murder. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand the rights I have just read to you?” the police officer asks.

  


“I-Is this a fucking joke?” Stiles found himself croaking out, “Did my dad put you guys up into doing this?!”  


  


Before he knew it, the officer that cuffed him hauls him up by the collar of his shirt and manhandles him into a cruiser, slamming the door hard once Stiles is inside the vehicle, but not before snarling: "I hope you enjoy prison, you monster."

  


Stiles was in a complete state of shock. What the fuck was going on? They were arresting him for murder? He couldn't even harm a fucking fly! Stiles heard of the murders happening around the town on the news, but it wasn’t him! He wanted to believe that his dad was pulling one of his pranks, but he was twenty-four-year-old university student now, not a thirteen-year-old little shit who thought running away would get him what he wanted.

  


No, this was definitely real. He was being arrested for real. For a crime that he hasn’t committed, nonetheless. 

  


                                                           ------------

  


Stiles sat in his private holding cell with his elbows on his knees, and his face buried in his hands while he waited to be brought into the interrogation room. He used his one phone call to call his father, who already knew of the arrest and was already in process of finding him a good lawyer. He was Beacon County’s mayor, after all, he knew the best of the best.

  


Although his dad tried his best to reassure him that everything was going to be alright, Stiles couldn’t help but the overwhelming dread tugging in his chest as thoughts flooded his mind. 

  


_**This was going to ruin any chances my father gets for re-election next year**_ , he thought, _**I’m never going to be able to get my master’s deg--- -**_

_**  
** _

"Stilinski!” someone shouted, causing Stiles’ head to snap up and glanced over towards the bars. It was a cop. “Let’s go. Detective Daehler is ready for you.”

  


                                                          ------------

  


“Mr. Stilinski, do you know why we arrested you?” Detective Daehler questioned, folding his arms over his chest.  


  


“They mentioned something about murders,” Stiles replied quietly, sinking down in his seat a bit. He knew not to speak until his lawyer got here, but they claimed needed a statement, so he answered with short, simple answers.  


  


“Right,” Daehler reached to a file to the right of him, flipping it open and gathering some photos. “Where were you on Tuesday night?”  


  


That was the night of the last murder, Stiles remembered it breaking on the news. He was at his apartment studying that night.

  


“At my apartment,” Stiles responds. “I was studying for my exams.”  


  


“Uh huh,” Daehler says, “Can anyone verify that?”  


  


Stiles paused. No, nobody couldn’t verify it. Scott wasn’t home, he had gone to go see his girlfriend at the time. 

  


"Uhm, no," he mumbles, glancing away.

  


Daehler made a humming noise in his throat before he started laying out photos in front of Stiles, "I want you to look at these, Stiles. Tell me, what do you see?"

  


When he takes a glimpse at the photos, Stiles goes completely numb, and he feels his blood run cold in his veins. In the photographs, there were people, or rather corpses, lying in pools of blood literally sliced in half, their intestines and other organs slung about. And there is blood..., oh god there's blood everywhere-- -

  


"You think you did this?" Stiles whispered, breathing heavily, not able to pull his eyes away.

  


"We do. We found your DNA at every single crime scene," Daehler says, "We have enough to prosecute your ass all the way to prison." 

  


Stiles finally looks up at the man, eyes wide and mouth agape, "I...I didn't do this!"

  


"Then explain how your DNA and fingerprints are all over the crime scenes, Stilinsk," the detective snarls.

  


"I don't know! I don't even know these people! I didn't do it!"

  


Daehler stands up abruptly, his chair screeching against the floor, "Do not give me that shit, you bastard! I don't fucking care if you're the mayor's fucking son, I know you did it and I will-- -"

  


He gets interrupted when the door of the interrogation room bursts open and in stomps, despite having a pissy look on his face, the most incredibly good looking man Stiles has laid his eyes on in his entire life. He's hair is slicked back, very built, wearing a tailored black suit that looks like it's been painted on him, and carrying a briefcase in his right hand. He is beside Stiles in a second, laying a hand on his shoulder.

  


"My client will no longer be speaking to you, Daehler. I am Mr. Stilinski's lawyer, and I will be representing him from here on out."

  


His dad hired a model to represent him. Fan-fucking-tastic. 


End file.
